The Story Of Legolas And Encoriel
by Eressa
Summary: An elf is imprisoned by Legolas' friends, the dwarfs, who will change his life. Follow her on her journey of escape and self discovery.
1. In Encoriel's Prison

Hey there readers of fanfics! This is a story I wrote a while ago. I have now revived it for editing and completion due to some lovely people who know who they are!  
  
Disclaimer: All characters, places and so on in this story do not belong to me! I'm just borrowing them for a while.  
  
Some vague background info is most probably needed, like where in time the story starts. It starts a little after the Siege of Gondor, and the One Ring being destroyed, at the end of The Return Of The King (which, if you haven't read, your missing out!) when All of the Fellowship are going their own ways, Legolas and Gimli together into Fangorn. It was a pretty messy battle, as they go so there were lots of injured Men, Elves, and Dwarfs to be found and tended to. I am now saying too much so I'll stop writing this and get on with the story!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Encoriel was in trouble. She didn't know it yet, but she was. Walking slowly round the borders of the forest of Fangorn, she was looking for the injured. Elves, Men, Dwarfs, Horses. The many sufferers of the Battle Now Won. Concentration showed on her fair elven face, eyes bright and sparkling, seeming to pierce the gloom of the soon-becoming night as she looked for any left behind, hidden, dying, lost. Of course, many had already looked, Encoriel included, but they couldn't risk missing a poor, brave soldier. Her elven eyes were good for this, she could see far clearer in the dark than any other non-elven maidens. She had ridden out from her home, the Realm of Palewood to help with the task.  
  
Despite the Battle being won, it was still not safe. Bands of loose orcs, leaderless, desperate still lurked all around the deep, dark forest Fangorn. It was not safe, though the number of remaining orcs was dwindling as the days wore on. Encoriel wore a long, slender elven blade sheathed around her waist and a smaller knife concealed within her cloak. The slight wind whistled through the trees, it seemed to threaten her. She drew her thick grey cloak around herself as the wind started to pick up slightly, talking in still more menacing tones. She was a wood-elf, usually so at home in the forest, but this particular forest set her nerves on end. The wind grew still more, whipping her loose blonde hair around her face. She reached up to bind it, wrapping a piece of twine round it, in a way usually not favoured by elf-maidens, but by the He-elves, who, for some reason or other needed to keep their flowing locks out of the way. She sighed and drew up the hood of her cloak, like a shroud of mist around her slender elven frame.  
  
She suddenly halted, her ears pricked and straining for the faint round she had just heard, over the menacing wind. It came again, from inside Fangorn, a soft rustling like a creature stirring in the leaves. She crept softly in, defying the menacing words the wind was throwing at her.  
  
"Hello?" she called out softly into the gloom of the night "who stirs hither?" No reply was made, save another slight rustle, closer this time. Defying this time her own senses warning her to fly, she ventured in farther until Fangorn had enveloped her, and the trees were dense all around. She softly called out again, her words lingering around the trees. The wind had ceased. In it's place was another slow rustle, then the crunching of leaves coming towards her. She held her ground, despite the warning in her heart, and moments later, really wished she'd followed through that wish to fly.  
  
A group of a dozen Orcs came out to her, surprisingly light-footed, but casting fear deep in her breast. She started to back slowly off, her hand on the hilt of her sword, with the orcs closing in around her. Drawing her sword, she mustered her courage and the clearest voice she could and cried out;  
  
"Get back, I have the means but not the wish to kill many of you!"  
  
the orcs laughed cruelly and stepped closer until the largest stood directly infront of her. she backed away, until her back was against a tree. the largest advanced a little more, until he stood directly infront of her and she could smell his foul odour  
  
"You are a liar and a coward!" He hissed. The others sniggered and closed in still farther. "The elven folk such as yourself always have the wish to do away with out kind!"  
  
"I am on a mission of peace" Encoriel replied, trying to hold her wavering voice together. "I am looking for naught but injured warriors!"  
  
The Orc laughed coldly and replied in a cold, sarcastic tone; "Then why, prey tell, do you yield a sword?"  
  
Encoriel tried to fly as the orcs came forward, but stumbled over one of the foreboding tree-roots and fell backwards to the ground. stumbling to her feet as the orcs, cruel knifes drawn advanced, leering like a trapper to a cornered fox. Encoriel slashed blindly out with her sword, catching the leading Orc a glancing blow to his mutilated, grotesque arm. This set him off. he could hell that her skill with blade was none too great and he pounced on her, knocking her to the forest floor with a strong stroke across her shoulder, throwing her off balance. Despite the searing pain, Encoriel stumbled to her feet, rushing forward to be dealt another blow, this time by fist to her face. As she fell unconscious to the ground, the moment seemed to last forever. Her hearing sharpened and she noticed every last detail of every last leaf as if it was high noon, not dusk. before her vision clouded over she struck out one last time with her sword. This time her aim was true. Her last strength proved enough to cut the throat of the Orc, as her crumpling form hit the ground.  
  
She had no knowledge of what happened for a good while after. She did not know of the orcs arguing over what to do with her. they had just feasted on the decaying flesh of another and had no wish for another meal, even if it was a good deal fresher. In the end It was decided to take her with them, their hunched, mutilated bodies still up to carrying more than her weight. they decided to keep her alive so she would be fresh when they were hungry, besides, they still had to pay her back for the death of one of their kind, not that they really held with such things as loyalty, but sport was sport. They carried her a good many miles into the forest, destruction in their path- they had no cares for the forest. They carried her through until they drew close to the Misty Mountains, where they were heading for refuge. There they stopped for a meal.  
  
Encoriel, who was now awake but tired from the march (when she wakened they made her walk) and suffering from the bites of cruel whips whenever she slowed or stumbled knew her time was running short. her hands were bound behind her back, her sword gone and only her knife to protect herself, which the orcs didn't know about. While they thought about killing her, she thought of ways to free her hands. She looked desperately all around until her tear bleary eyes fell apon a sharp rock. She knew fleeing was futile without her hands, so she cautiously crawled over to it- the guard-Orc more interested in the argument breaking out. She pulled the tight rope binding her over the jagged rock over and over again, until it started to give around her weary raw wrists. She was not used to such things. her mind went back to her life in the Palewood Realm where she was of a High Family. She was a Lady no less, though she seldom acted it. She was very fair but held no lovers, always yearning for adventure and to help others, which was the reason she travelled from Palewood, but now she was wishing to be back in her own, safe land.  
  
She was suddenly jerked back to her present situation, now about to change, by two things; the fraying and snapping of the bindings around her wrists, and a sudden ambush of the orcs (and Encoriel herself) by a large party of dwarfs, dressed for battle.  
  
It is now time we travel back a bit, and away from Encoriel- to Legolas and Gimli. The Elf and Dwarf together, as planned had explored Fangorn together and were now on their way back to the Misty Mountains, Where they hoped to journey more together. They sat together resting their backs against some trees, looking on to the path ahead  
  
"If we are indeed to pass over the mountains" said Gimli "we must pass through the Mines of Gorendor, where dwells my kinsman Garin!"  
  
"Alas!" Cried Legolas, his clear, fair voice sparkling with amusement at his companion. "I fear you mean the same sort welcome we received in the mines of Moria, where your kinsmen also dwelt!"  
  
"Most certainly not!" Started the dwarf in outrage "Garin and his kinsfolk are as alive as you and I, and their mines run much less deep and perilous, yet still with great beauty to be wondered at!" Seeing the sparkle in his friends fair elven he carried on "You will no doubt find it much lighter and more welcoming of there woods you love so much" He jested.  
  
"We shall see, my friend, we shall-.." Legolas fair voice suddenly halted. He leapt to his feet, eyes alert, hand on bow. "there is a party travelling ahead." he said softly "Of about twenty."  
  
"Orcs?" Queried Gimli, also on his feet and gazing the same way, but seeing nothing in the shade of the trees  
  
"I cannot say, they are too far" The elf and dwarf had slain many an Orc in the woods, they were always on the lookout for the threat of more. "we must follow" Whispered Legolas. The dwarf nodded in reply, and with stealth and speed they hastened through the trees.  
  
As they drew nearer, it became apparent that the party was that of dwarfs, none other than Gimli's kinsmen! They approached the dwarfs from out of sight, as they seemed to be hunting and would no doubt shoot them by accident. Gimli called out, and, sure enough the dwarfs turned o their heels and sever arrows whizzed passed them. Legolas laughed and Gimli smiled as a dwarf came forward.  
  
"State who you are and what is your purpose... be ye friend or foe?" He cried.  
  
"Who I am you should know, though it has been many a year since our last meeting, Garin, son of Gallor!" cried out Gimli, emerging with Legolas from the trees. "I am Gimli son of Golin, your kinsman!" Gimli and Legolas walked forward to the dwarfs, who looked apon Gimli with recognition and trust, but Legolas with suspicion.  
  
"We do indeed now you Gimli son of Golin, but your companion we are not familiar with." stated a dwarf, taking in Legolas' fair features, blond hair braided and hanging long and neat and elegant ways. "We are not friendly with elves around here, What brings him this way?"  
  
"He can talk for himself." Replied Legolas, tall and proud. "I am a long time companion of Gimli. We have travelled far together and got along, so I see no reason to be treated with such mistrust. I am Legolas of Mirkwood, friend of dwarfs, not enemy."  
  
The dwarfs looked at Gimli for verification, which was give in a slight not, and eyes full of mirth.  
  
"Then I welcome you both to our midst's!" cried Garin, bowing low. Together, the dwarfs and elf walked in the trees, and exchanged stories. Gimli and Legolas told all that had happened to them and Garin told of the mines and welcomed them to stay. He introduced some of the other dwarfs, including Lord of the Mines, Grundin who was the uncle of Garin, and a rather stubborn dwarf, who still looked apon Legolas with pronounced mistrust. Garin told them they were hunting orcs spotted nearby, and many had already tried to attack the mines. As they talked quietly, Legolas suddenly halted their words.  
  
" If you are hunting a party of orcs, look hither!" he whispered, gesturing to the left of the track where, in the shade of the trees, even the dwarfs could see (and hear) the orcs arguing amongst the trees. The dwarfs and Legolas armed them selves and stalked closer, making ready to attack.  
  
The fight did not last long, the Orcs were swiftly surrounded and slaughtered, and, though they did have time to slash at the Dwarfs, no serious wounds were had and no Orcs escaped.... but, as they withdrew to look around, they saw a dark-cloaked shape fleeing, weapon glinting in hand. The dwarfs took chase of the figure who was, of course, Encoriel, not that they were to know, and cornered it. It gave fight, injuring some dwarfs, including Grundin, Lord of the mines, but sustaining more its self when it was caught off guard and delivered a blow that knocked it to the ground, (once again) unconscious, where Garin, he himself cut by the creature was about to deliver a final stroke, when Legolas cried out "I beg you, my good dwarf, to stop! My heard fears all is not right!" The dwarf hesitated and Legolas ran out to Encoriel.  
  
He looked down at the hooded, cloaked bundle and wondered why his heart jolted at the sight of it about to be killed. It was most unlike him! Gently, he pulled down the hood to reveal what he saw as a warrior, cut and bruised, the mysterious elf-warrior looked terrible, The warriors hair was tied up hastily but escaping from the twine that held it in the warrior- style place. Legolas could tell nothing of it, but that it was an elf, a scared, cornered, injured elf done fore sudden battle. The new elf's face was so dirty and covered in bruises and cuts Legolas had no idea what he looked like. His heart was filled with pity.  
  
"We must kill him, elf or no." Spoke Grundin. "He still attacked us. He is an enemy"  
  
" I think not!" Replied Legolas "He looks to me like a prisoner" He has been severely beaten but his style is that of a warrior" Legolas gently pulled aside the strange elf's cloak to reveal raw, bloody wrists. "I am right!" Cried Legolas "He has been bound! I prey of you, good Grundin, do not kill him! he fought bravely against one he thought the enemy, as any of you would no doubt have done in his position! Take him back to your hospitable mine and doctor him as you would an injured warrior of your on!"  
  
Dwarfs are stubborn creatures, as is shown here, when Grundin replied "If you willst not let me slay him, Master Legolas, you can not persuade me to take him as a guest! an enemy in my own home! He has a choice that it seems you must make for him: Leave him here or take him to the mines, but as a prisoner!"  
  
Legolas was aghast! "But out here he would surely die, but no It would be no life as a prisoner! If taken back, what should happen to him good master dwarf, prey tell?"  
  
The dwarf thought and replied "He would be kept in the dungeons, though fed and doctored, but would not be released as you are hoping!" An idea suddenly struck him; "In fact I will let you tend to him while you stay in the mine! As long as he was not released nor be given a chance where any dwarf could be hurt!"  
  
Legolas thought of this, and sighed. "I must then agree to him being taken prisoner, as my heart tells me it would be wrong for him to die. I will catty him then." Gently, Legolas Picked up Encoriel, or the brave he-elf warrior he thought and bore her out of the forest, towards the mine, and for Encoriel, her prison.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Wow. I'm sorry that was so crap! I swear it will get better! This was written a while ago so now it's my duty to finish it! Please review! I do love to receive them (especially if you write yourself- I love to read!) This is for my silent reviewer- You know who you are! One last thing- is there any lovely person out there who could possibly beta read-for me??? (as you can possibly tell(!) I'm useless and never read over my own work! Please please please! I need help! If you like this- please review and I'll get the next chapter out. I'm being evil… chapter two and three are already done and ready to be posted so it's up to you! Ta ta.. For now… 


	2. In the mines

Disclaimer: Nothing's really changed from the disclaimer on chapter one, I still don't own there characters apart from Palewood Realm and Encoriel!  
  
This is chapter 2 in case you don't know! This is for Meagan, for making me move! It was really sweet and nice and made my Day! I also have to apologise for all the bad grammar, spelling mistakes and things that made no sense! I really should've read it over before submitting it, but hey! That's what happens when you give me a computer and access to the Internet! I is on an updating spree right now so I'm going to go and be a good little harry potter fanfic writer now and write a new chapter for that! Wish me luck!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The walk back to the Mines was not long, but posed many questions to Legolas as they travelled through the shady calm of the now peaceful forest, under a canopy of rich leaves, Legolas and Gimli walking a little in front of the others, to talk alone.  
  
"Why, prey tell did you insist on saving this stranger?" Queried Gimli , looking over at his friend, the tall, fair elf cradling gently in his arms Encoriel.  
  
"I could not let a fellow elf and escaped prisoner fall victim to murder" He cried; "Would you be willing to let a fellow fighter kidnapped by Orcs be killed by a party of creatures that no doubt fight on the same side?"  
  
"I would not, as you well know, but before that, before We knew the creature to be an elf, you stopped the injured hand of Garin when he was about to slay the hooded, hostile creature! You had no way of knowing him to be of elven kin! Why did you not, like the rest of us, think him an Orc?"  
  
Legolas pondered this question, in his mind, reliving the moment, where he saw the shrouded figure fighting the dwarfs. He had indeed thought it a Orc, and wished the foul creature to be slayed, when suddenly, a warning an true in his breast, crying out for the creatures help. Strong willed though he was, he acted on this, and was glad he trusted the sense.  
  
Gimli watched the fog go over Legolas' eyes as he strove for the ever eluding answer to the dwarfs question. None came. Legolas' eyes refocused on the task at hand, and looked again at the strange elf in his arms.  
  
"What can you tell of him?" Asked Gimli, following the elf's gaze.  
  
Legolas looked long and hard at the figure, his sharp eye taking in the grey cloak pulled and fastened around it's wearer, the Blond hair, so muddy and unkempt, and the blotted facial features, hidden by layers of mud and bruises.  
  
" I can not say much. He sleeps on and his face is all but hidden. I think I have sufficient knowledge of healing to doctor him, providing he has no worse wounds than what we can see here"  
  
Swiftly, they moved on farther towards the mines.  
  
Slowly, the Misty Mountains loomed overhead, closer and closer, until the skyline was taken up by their blackened bulk. It was high noon, but little of the light had seeped in through the trees, as they stepped out onto the dusty plain, it cheered their hearts, even more so the sight of the mountains and the mines so close. Legolas was anxious to reach them before his burden awoke, for Encoriel had been growing more uneasy in her slumber, occasionally her eyes would open slightly until her troubled dreams forced her back into them.  
  
Coming on the entrance to the mines was quite unexpected. They had entered the Realm of the Misty Mountains, and walked on in the bright afternoon sky, their feet scuffing the dried, dusty soil. Suddenly, like the passing of one second unto the next, they stepped into the shade of the mountains, and walked on, surrounded by protruding rocks, grey and weather-beaten. There was a gentle wind and it was pleasantly cool after the bright sun, but that cool soon turned to a chill as they progressed along a non- existent path to a sheer cliff wall. They followed the side of that wall of stone into a tunnel, hidden in such a way that if it was viewed from any other angle, it would seem invisible, the two stone walls blending perfectly into each other. Gimli, followed by Legolas walked in after the other dwarfs.  
  
They proceeded down the tunnel fore some time, the darkness growing more absolute with every step they took, soon so intense that there was no light save in the eyes of Gimli, so ecstatic to see the mines again. Suddenly, The velvet blackness ceased. A shaft of light from an intricately hidden window shone in, a bright pool of light around the gloom. Suddenly more light appeared, daylight from the windows showing off the best of dwarfish design. The party marched into a hall, well lit with precious stones shining on the well carved walls, and with other dwarfs scurrying all around, gazing in wonder at the elf. Few had ever entered the mines before, and this one held in his arms another, most intriguing one, looking sickly.  
  
Grundin led them on off into a smaller tunnel, it's smooth walls lit with large flaming torches. This passage led them to another hall, smaller, but much grander; the Home Of Grundin and his family. There they halted. Legolas, looking around saw that many of the party had left them, leaving only himself and his burden, Gimli, Garin, Grundin and another three dwarfs, family members, who quickly left. Grundin then also took his leave to tend to his wounds, with the words "I shall leave you and our prisoner in the capable hands of Garin. He then strode off down a dark tunnel to the left. Garin said or did nothing until the dark mutterings of his uncle had grown silent with distance. Then he turned to face His guests.  
  
"Now then, Master Elf!" Said Garin, addressing Legolas "For our captive-"  
  
A look of annoyance flashed across Legolas' face, causing the dwarf to rephrase his words;  
  
"For your invalid. I will supply a room of moderate comfort and light where he can remain safe and still be tended to. I assume you have your own medicines?"  
  
"I believe I have sufficient with me. Fangorn proved full of plants with potent healing properties." The elf graciously replied.  
  
"Then I will lead on."  
  
The dwarf vanished down another passage, smaller and less well decorated, with Gimli and Legolas in tow. At length, they stopped at the door to a chamber. Garin pushed open the heavy wooden door to reveal a good sized stone room, with light filtering through slanted windows that yet allowed no sight of the outside world. They were long and angular next to the high ceiling. Set into the floor was a font in which to bathe and there was a large fire, which Garin proceeded to light by one wall, underneath one of the slanted windows, on the opposite wall was a slab of stone, covered in blankets, with a single stool and table bare except for a bowl next to it. In the path of one of the beams of sunlight, stood a sheet of highly polished metal, serving as a mirror. Legolas inwardly sighed. He knew the dwarf was being as considerate as the laws on punishment of a dwarfish enemy allowed, but, to an elf, even a free one the room contained little joy. Outwardly, he thanked Garin and gently laid out Encoriel on the slab of rock serving as a bed. On the table he laid out, from his pack all the healing plants and flowers he had collected and a skin full of water.  
  
"I bid you, leave your charge for a while, it may be best if he is on his own when he stirs." said Garin, looking apprehensively at the elf on the bed, who was moaning softly as it tried to fight its way out of the dreams. "Come back later. Meanwhile come and see your own chamber, and come eat at a dwarf table! From the sounds of your story, it has been a while since you have had a proper meal!" Legolas reluctantly agreed and followed the happy Gimli out of the chamber door, with a fleeting glance to the sleeping figure. The door shut and lock turned with a ominous clang that reached even Encoriel in her fitful slumber.  
  
Dreaming she knew she was, yet she was finding it hard to draw out of them, whenever she came close, she caught a few fleeting glimpses of reality, even that making no sense to her fogged mind, before she was dragged back to her nightmares. Even there, her wounds hurt. The bang of the door helped her fight to return to consciousness, with a last struggle, she opened her eyes, blinking blearily at the strange surroundings.  
  
She tried to cast her mind back to all which had happened recently, the fight with the orcs, the escape... Slowly, the memory of being cornered by the dwarfs came to her, she remembered her own fear as she fell to the ground, and seeing, though she thought in her dreams......... what was it, someone trying to save her, a sweet voice on the wind? She struggled to remember what had happened after, but even the nightmares were starting to fade.  
  
Slowly, she pulled herself into a sitting position and looked around herself, taking in all the features of the room, the light with no view of the sun, the now merrily crackling fire, the font in the middle of the floor. She looked around for something to drink, feeling her throat burning and laid eyes on the table next to the bed. she wobbily tried to stand, leaning on the bed for support, and, after a few attempts summoned the strength to stagger over to the table and carefully lowered herself onto the little wooden stool. Reaching out she gratefully drank some water, feeling a little more strength and clarity return to her soul. She noticed the Blooms and plants laid out on the table and reached out to examine them, recognising them by sight, being a healer herself (such was her reason for being at Fangorn) and was comforted by the familiarity of them.  
  
Carefully walked, using the wall as a support over to the rough mirror, and gasped at the sight that met her. Reaching up, she gently touched her face, sending pain shooting about her fragile body. She knew she must bathe the wounds, before she set to work healing them, so she slowly and carefully pulled herself over to the font and slowly, as her skin was sensitive and covered with many wounds removed her cloak and robes, unbound her hair and carefully let herself slide under the water. Totally submerged, she closed her eyes and felt a feeling of peace spread over herself. A little light from the window pierced through the water, warming her, as her strong elvish soul set to work mending the body. At length, she emerged and, feeling better walked unsupported back to the table and collected all of the plants and blooms she thought she would need, along with the skin of water, refilled in the font and the bowl. She went over to the fire, where she heated the water in the bowl over the flames and then moved cautiously to the mirror, so she could see her wounds properly. She could see most were not serious. An infusion of various of the plants selected by her knowledgeable mind in the bowl of hot water was soon prepared. The aroma released was very cheering, easing her mental anguish and taking the edge off her pain. When It had cooled sufficiently, she used a little cloth torn from her cloak to apply it to her various cuts and smaller bruises. The swelling on her face cleared, along with the bruises so much that she could recognise herself again, but without her usual merry expression, and light in her eyes. Soon almost all of her cuts and bruises were healed, with the exemption of the large wound made across her upper chest and shoulder by the Orc blade. She could not treat that alone, as she would need full use of both hands, and the wound was in such a place that that was not possible. A little of the infusion ingested started to heal her internally and, within a matter of minutes she was feeling a lot better, it not a little shaken, stiff and weary, but her head was clearer and all her outward ailments gone, save the knife wound.  
  
Really, she thought I was lucky. It could have been a lot worse. Then she remembered she was a prisoner and no doubt her captors would be back soon, and she started feeling a lot worse. She redressed in her long, pale-green robe and looked again in the mirror. Outwardly, save her eyes she looked like her old self, with her fair face visible and beautiful again, and long blonde hair loose and hanging down her back, but inwardly, she felt great fear of what awaited her. She shivered and cautiously returned to the bed, laying down. She was soon in the deep, dreamless sleep of the exhausted.  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
Legolas stalked silently down the passage toward the chamber where the elf lay. He left Gimli, more than a little affected by dwarf mead, red faced and bellowing to other dwarfs about the best way to chisel limestone archways. To the elf, this talk was nothing short of agony most of the time, but when he was so desperate to get back to tend to "his invalid", it was nothing short of torture. He was never really interested in healing, but he felt tied to this elf, saving his life, and with the knowledge of that lay the knowledge that it was up to him to make the life of imprisonment he had bestowed apon the strange elf better.  
  
He drew up to the heavy oak door, and turned the key silently in the lock, before slipping in and locking the door again. He was half-expecting the elf to leap out and attack him, before making a run for it down the tunnel to be met with the blades of many a dwarf, the other half of him was expecting to see the warrior he left on the bed still huddled there, asleep. This expecting did not leave and room for what he actually saw:  
  
His healing flowers, water skin and the bowl by the mirror, surrounded by wet footprints, the tattered cloak strewn across the stone floor, by the font, and on the bed..... on the bed, not the muddy, bruised and wounded elf he had left, but a maiden, Beautiful and fair, with long blonde hair and pale green robes, lying with her hand clasped infront of her as though dead. Catching his breath, the feeling in the bottom of his stomach and not quite all of his wits, he stepped closer, to his great relief seeing that the maiden was not dead, but sleeping deeply His quiet ways unsurprisingly not enough to wake her. Drawing up the stool to the bed, he sank down onto it, to think through what had just happened.  
  
Slowly, the wits that he had just lost and not found returned to him, and his mind grew a little clearer.  
  
How could an elven warrior turn into an elven maiden? he thought to himself. He did not ponder this for long. They can't, obviously, which means either I carried two people to this hateful place, or just one, with a hidden identity. Deciding the first of these choices unlikely, he went with the second, and his bright eyes looked again around the room, this time paying attention for clues. he saw the wet footprints and discarded cloak by the font. He stepped lightly over to it. It was the same one. Then he looked again by the mirror, looking more closely at the infusion, and the blooms used, reciting their properties that he could remember to himself, and realising they would all have a great healing effect, perfect for bruises, cuts. It was starting to make more sense. He went over again to look at the maiden lying there, seeing how her features would have been all but hidden by her former condition, now cleared of the deceptive veil. Understanding. He once again sat down to wait for the maiden to stir.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Several hours later, stir she did. Her bright eyes opened and her lips curved into a smile She drew breath for a yawn, and felt once again the dull thud of pain from the wound on her shoulder. This rang like an alarm bell through her system, the light went out of her eyes... she remembered. She sat up wearily, the effects of her ordeal not all chased away by her medicines... and looked into the eyes of a stranger. Stifling a cry, she scrambled back, fear filling her, but he just looked down on her, a look of concern flashing across his face.  
  
"Be not afraid, I mean you no harm!" He said gently, sitting up to look at her more clearly. She sat trembling, taking in the stranger, his fair face and piercing blue eyes, blond hair and eyebrows furrowed with concern.  
  
"Who are you? Where am I?" She stammered, trying to master her fear and look the stranger in the eyes.  
  
"I am Legolas, from a dwelling of the elves called Mirkwood, and we are in the Mines Of Gonendora" he replied calmly. "And might I ask you name and where you are from?"  
  
"First I wish to know why I am here, am I free to leave?"  
  
"Alas no, You may remember a fight you had with some dwarfs, where you injured several but they defeated you. You managed to injure their Lord and he looks none too kindly on you. You are to be held prisoner here... For the foreseeable future"  
  
Her face fell, tears welling up in her eyes. Legolas looked on, trying to hide his own feelings. It was his fault she was here, something he could not forget, he was filled with pity for the maiden, he could feel her grief, but when she looked up, her face was filled with hatred and spite. "So dwarfs truly are my enemies, and the elves of Mirkwood! So cruel are you to take for a prisoner one who only just escaped from death by orcs!"  
  
Legolas looked up, surprised in the sudden change in the maiden. She seemed suddenly so strong and filled with fire. He felt compelled to make her see he was not her enemy, that he did not want her to suffer. He reached out to her, his face filled with his thoughts, but she shrank backwards, away from his touch. She backed warily off, never taking her eyes off him, her feet touching the slid of the floor. She tried to run, but she was still too weak and started to fall towards the hard stone floor. Quick as a flash, Legolas was by her side. He caught her gently by the waist and lowered her gently back onto the bed, immune to her weak struggles.  
  
"I mean you no harm, as do the dwarfs, most understanding your plight." He said in a low voice, seeing her defences start to weaken. "You must not struggle, you are yet too weak, though you doctored yourself well. You must rest. I will do all I can to see you released, but that will not be possible if you do not tell me how you came to be in the company of orcs, I have to this time only been able to guess."  
  
Encoriel looked up at the stranger called Legolas from Mirkwood, and, for the first time met his gaze. His blue eyes pierced her soul. She suddenly became all to aware that his arms were still wrapped protectivley around her. She could see sincerity and warmth in his gaze, and suddenly felt totally in his power, like he controled her. She looked away, a strange mix of emotions filling her, she tried and failed to stifle a shiver. Legolas noticed and loosed his grip around her. The room was not warm. He went over and re-stoaked the flames, the returned to her. He loosed his cloak from his own shoulders and wrapped it around her icy figure. She winced as his hands brushed her shoulder and she shied a little away, as if he had done it on purpose, her hand flying protectivley back to her wound.  
  
"You are still wounded?" He asked her, concern and dismay filling him. She did not need to reply, he could tell by the look in her eyes she was.  
  
"It is but a small graze." She finally replied. "It will heal in time."  
  
"Why not with medicine? It worked with all of your other ailments!" Legolas sensed she did not want to talk of this, but he pressed it farther, feeling it of importance. She shrank still farther back, as if to avoid the issue, but feeling like his gaze was burning her open.  
  
"It is out of my power to heal alone, I cannot treat myself fully... I have never had to before." She tailed off into her thoughts of her life in Palewood, her friends, her home. It all seemed of far away... Legolas voice brought her back;  
  
"I can help, I have some skill in healing, I am not sure if the wound is as slight as you make out." He was indeed worried, noticing her eyes sliding in and out of focus, and the obvious pain of the wound.  
  
She opened her mouth as if to refuse, but he spoke over her, in light, yet deep tones;  
  
"I insist." Once again, she felt his power, and her helplessness, but the wound was in such a place it was hard to show and retain her modesty. A faint blush tinged her cheeks. She hoped he didn't notice.  
  
"Very well, but you must turn while I remove my robes. His turn to blush, he bowed his head slightly and turned his back to her, suddenly understanding the wound was delecatley placed. He blushed deeper, glad his back was to her. Inwardly, he wondered why he felt like this, it was so unlike him, always so bold, he barely ever blushed...why start now?  
  
Behind his back Encoriel struggled gingerly out of her robes, looking down on the wound, hoping to see it suddenly vanished, but, as she knew, it was still there, an ugly, deep gash, flecked with black, red, purple and, more worryingly, an ngry shade of green. It looked swollen and ugly. she used Legolas' cloak to cover the main part of her body, like a toga, and signalled to him he could turn around.  
  
As his eyes fell on the wound, he gave a sharp intake of breath, his eyes taking it in.  
  
"How did you get this wound?" He questioned. "It is important!" He added, seeing the gaurded look on her face.  
  
"The blade of an orc" She replied reluctantly. The look of worry on his face grew deeper. It was as he thought.  
  
"This wound is deep, but in itself not dangerous." He spoke in a low voice. "But it is also poisened" He saw a look of fear pass onto her face. She had seen too many victims of orc-poisin perish for her liking. Reading this from her face, his words quickly steaded her emotion;  
  
"Worry not, I think we can treat it. He looked at the wound again, reluctant to touch it and cause the maiden more pain, as it was so obviously filling her with it already. Quickly, he strode over to the table, and selected a few leafs from a plant Encoriel did not use. He then retrieved the bowl, and heated water once again. As he waited for the water, he could not stand the silence.  
  
"You still have not told me your name" He said, without looking up. "I know so little about you, and you have told me less."  
  
Encoriel's brow furrowed. She did not understand the last remark. "what do you mean by that?" She asked, suspicious.  
  
"No offence at all!" He said hastily, "Just that all I know of you is what I can see, or tell from what you have said."  
  
"And what is that, prey tell" She asked coldly, not liking the thought that he knew anything about her she did not tell. She still was not sure of this Legolas. Her recent expreiences made her suspicious, especially as she was his prisinor.  
  
"Well..." He started cautiously being careful of what he said, so not to cause offence. "I can tell you are a skilled healer, though you have not much expierience with anything serious, and you have suffered a great deal over the last few days, unlike your life before, where I believe you have had a sheltered life. You are also no coward, but have no experience in battle. Am I right?"  
  
She was stunned. He seemed to know too much about her, she felt exposed, wondering if she was really that easy to read. She did not know how to answer his question and keep her protective secrecy and pride. "You know somethings about me" She replied "but I do not know how."  
  
A brief grin flitted across his face and he said "I know by your speech and nature, what I saw when you fought with the dwarfs and what you yourself have told me."  
  
"Of my nature, you know nothing." She stated flatly. There was no reply he could give to that.  
  
"Please tell me, what is your name? I cannot just call you Fair Maiden!" She turned her head from him, before replying;  
  
"In this prison, I have no name, no identity. What is the need when I have no freedom. But if you wish to know, outside, among the trees and light, I am called Encoriel."  
  
"Encoriel... A beautiful name" Said Legolas softly, almost to himself. He looked up and around to her and said in a louder voice; "Of course you have a name in here, or else what would you be called by those who wish to address you? Tell me more about yourself. Where do you come from? Tell me a little of your life. What brought you to the orcs where we found you?"  
  
He stooped to retrieve the boiling water, and added to them a measure of the leaves he had selected earlier. Bringing the bowl over, he sat down beside her bed again. "Tell me as we wait for this to cool"  
  
Encoriel looked up uncertainly into Legolas face. She hated this feeling of no power. She hated having to ask for things so simple as food, but she was so very hungry, not having eaten for days, and none had been offered.  
  
"I will tell you a little of myself, if you could do something for me..." She started uncertainly, watching the elf by her side.  
  
"If I can, I will" he replied simply, but honestly  
  
"I.. I'm most terribly hungry... That is to say, i've not eaten for many days..."  
  
Legolas jumped to his feet, A look of distress covered his features. He had forgotten to give her any food! He had laid out a meal for the injured elf, but, in the shock of finding Encoriel not to be who he thought, he had forgotten. he cursed himself and ran to the door, where he had left the sack with some bread, lembas, fruit and nuts.  
  
"My most humble apologies!" He cried "I am so rude to leave my guest without nourishment!" He stopped there, seeing the look on Encoriel's face at the word 'Guest'. His face fell with guilt. I am so stupid! he thought First I forget feed her then I remind her of being held here! he was cut short then by the sound of Encoriel voice, inbetween mouthfuls of food. She was telling him all that had happened since arriving at the camp set up to tend to the injured soldiers to offer her help as a healer. She told the truth, but not what Legolas really wanted. He wanted to know more about Encoriel, not a story told without emotion of a small part of her life. He wanted to know about her, what she was like. He contented himself with the account of these few days. It was what he asked her, but not what he wanted.  
  
He found her intriguing, in a way he had never felf before, watching her eat, still with only his cloak wrapped around her slight figure. He could see no light in her eyes, just grief. He could not imagine how she felt. He himself hated mines, like all elves longing for light and nature, but he knew he could leave at any time. As far as she knew, she was there forever. Forever is a long time for elves.  
  
At lengh, Encoriel arrived at the part of her story when she was nocked unconcious by the dwarfs.  
  
"...And when I awoke, I was here." she finished. She glanced up at Legolas. He was gazing down at her, as ever looking straight into her eyes. She wished he wouldn't. There was something about those eyes, they made her feel like he could see everything about her. She had always gaurded her emotions so well for fear of being hurt. When he looked at her, it felt as if he could see past that, into her soul... She was disturbed in her train of thought by Legolas standing up and stretching, catlike. He walked over to the infision and started mixing other things to it. What he used, she could not see and did not ask. She was quiet by nature, and had just talked a lot. She rarely talked that much. You gave yourself away with speech.  
  
He soon returned to her side, a thick ointment in the bowl, grainy brown with a wholesome smell that lifted her spirits.  
  
"Lie back. I will be as gentle as possible" He said. She obeyed slowley, making sure the cloak stayed in place. Legolas noticed this, and felt his fair skin tinge with slight pink again. He avoided her eyes, focusing entirely on the task at hand, the pink in his skin going a shade redder every hime his hand brushed her chest. He soon finished. His gentle fingers hardly hurting her atall. Already the pain was lessening. He tore a strip off one of the blankets and gently bandaged the wound. He looked up, feeling thankful the pink hue had all but left his cheeks.  
  
"I am finished. I think your wound will heal well. I will check on it tomorrow." She looked at him, for once briefly meeting his eyes. Confused she nodded in thanks, not knowing what else to do.He turned again while she re-dressed herself, then fetched her more water. She sat up and sipped it slowley before falling into another deep sleep.  
  
Legolas looked on. In sleep her face was robbed of all sorrow and pain. She looked serene and beautiful. He had seen beauty before, many a time, In elves, beauty comes as standard, but there was something different about this Beautiful One. He had sensed it before he even knew she was beautiful, which, he thought, by logic, meant it had nothing to do with beauty. But then what has it to do with? he thought I felt something before I even knew she was an elf! He closed his eyes, Trying to make sense of her. She was so gaurded. He felt sure it was not just due to the events she had just told her. He thought it could have something to do with what happened before. Her story told him nothing. These events were just, were just events. Not anything about herself. She was like a riddle, a riddle he only knew one line from, and yet... he felt.. I dont know! he thought I feel like she's behind a screen, with only her shadow showing, and yet, and yet more of her struggling through, as if I can see all of her on a different level, which I cant quite tune in to. His mind fogged over at all of this, like trying to look through a window covered in cobwebs. Seeing only fleeting shadows of sense. He was a logical elf, loving things that made sense, but her mystery enticed him...  
  
He was interupted from his musings by the door opening and Gimli coming in with Garin (they had another key). Both gave a gasp at the sight of the beautiful maiden asleep on the bed. Both dwarfs were great lovers of beauty, and stepped forward, but Legolas motioned them outside, not wanting to disturb her much-needed slumber. The dwarfs reluctantly followed and Legolas, as silently as possible closed the door and locked it.  
  
"You had been an age" said Gimli, "So we came to see what was happening. What did happen?" He was quite baffled. Not feeling much like talking, Legolas filled them in on the bare minimum, That her name was Encoriel, she was a healer tending to the wounded from the Battle Now Won when kidnapped by orcs, and she needed rest, and they were not to disturb her.  
  
Gimli saw the look on his friends face, and knew not to ask any more for the time being.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Thats the End of chapter 2! I hope you liked it! Once again I apologise for bad spelling, Please review this, as any feedback is really useful And I'm sorry to any big Tolkein fans for and mistakes I have made! Though I have real The Lord Of The Rings and The Hobbit, I have only just started The Silmarillion and am realising I have made a few mistakes (mostly corrected now). Once again, please review, or e-mail (I will always reply!) 


	3. In Encoriel's Dream

*insert witty disclaimer here*

Remember me? No? Never mind. Here is my favourite chapter so far. But before you read it, please read this..

I need a Beta- not only someone who will proof read (as in someone with better grammar/spelling etc. than me), but also someone I can bounce ideas off. I would like to have one well versed in both Lord of The Rings and also Harry Potter, as I write mostly in that category.  Another useful trait would be the ability to nag when I am lazy and don't write! If you are all of this please tell me so in a review or e-mail (pherlaith@hotmail.com). Any help most appreciated. 

This fic was abandoned, but is back as people have started reviewing again (why?) so I have added another chapter. I may carry on. I may not. Tis up to you guys.

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Encoriel was dreaming. Flashes of the past combined with fears for the future, a bittersweet cocktail of suspense laced with unknown emotions she did not understand. Scenes flashed through her head, mixed with sounds that did not match the images... The Galloping of horses' hoofs on scarred turf, screams of the injured, cold laughter, the songs of children, old legends long forgotten, and then..... 

_Silence.   
Total and absolute. _

_Horrible, deep, louder than any sound, more enveloping than the densest fog._

 It filled her completely, Icy cold. She gasped, the sensation piercing her soul. Her mind went black. Pain was inside her, working from the inside out. She closed her eyes tight to try and escape. A picture started to build, like a spider's web, each delicate filament touching, binding together, yet still so delicate it looked as if it would snap at the slightest touch. She tried not to let her mind touch it, despite the irresistible pull, her pain forgotten. Terrible she knew it was, and yet a thing of beauty. If it was indeed a web, she was the fly, held in place by the deceptive strands, awaiting its doom. It was too late to fight. In her dream, she looked on.

She saw ahead of her a coil of golden rope lying on an expressionless  floor, Intricately woven, it looked strong and simple, one end free, the other.... the other a noose... In her dream, she shuddered, averting her gaze, but her eyes were drawn back to the bitter rope, but she was not looking at a rope. It was a serpent. What had been the noose end of the rope was it's foul head. Blood-red eyes glared up at her, it's gaze scorching her. She cried out into the silence, the noise echoing dismally against unseen walls. The serpent hissed, flicking its tail menacingly at her. It started to fade, moving steadily into the distance, but yet not moving at all. Was she the one moving? She looked down at her legs to check, but saw none there, just echoing blackness... She suddenly felt like she was plunging down.

 _It's not blackness at all she mused. A pinprick of light approached, growing into a room. She saw faces, faces all around, blurred like mere echoes of distant memories, Her mind playing on the memories weakness. She heard sounds- that of dialogue in the common tongue, unlike the room it was loud, clear, definite. Yet, she could not bring herself to understand it. She saw a ring, a simple golden band, surrounded by fire. It melted into a pool of blood, and a dark globule of crystal replaced it, shining, yet with no light emanating forth. She looked into it and saw arrows, blades, chains and burning. Scenes she did not understand, with people she did not know._

 The confusion ceased, her mind cleared. She saw a strange party of people walking, on the most part, heavily, as if much thought troubled them (Such is the mortal way), their shoulders hunched as they trudged amongst jagged rocks and sickly turf. There were nine of them, Four small, childlike creatures of a race she did not know, two noble, proud men, and another who resembled a man- old and weather-beaten, but such wisdom and power seemed to emanate from him it could not be-, an elf, and a dwarf. She watched their troubled faces, as they passed one by one. Her eyes kept being drawn back to one of the small ones, but something else dragged her roving eye to the elf, His back now turned to her as he walked elegantly away. He was dressed in green, a rich, dark shade borrowed from nature, A longbow and quiver on his back, the tails of the arrows shrouded by his white-blond hair, blowing in the wind. An unknown feeling swelled in her breast, spilling over and, for a split second, she yearned to follow him. She held her breath tight and the feeling passed. As it did, it took with it the image of the retreating backs. 

Another face replaced it, that of her father. Subconsciously, she cringed. His profile swam in and out of focus, as if obscured by a mask of tears she was reluctant to let leave. He was talking, a stern look on his face, eyes stony and cold; "I would have thought the news of your betrothal would come as much rejoiced tidings to you! We have taken a heavy responsibility from your irresponsible shoulders! As Lady of Palewood it is your duty to....." The words faded as another image swam into view as her tears cleared- A dark-haired elf with a set frown and a savagely triumphant, calculating look in his eye. He was gazing after a slender shape, slipping away into the welcome shroud of night. She saw herself, in Palewood, so grim, unsmiling as always, gliding along a passage, head bowed, hands clasped. She saw herself in a stable, warm and peaceful, resting in the deep straw. She saw herself in a room, gazing longingly out of a window. All of these things faded into twilight. A silhouette of a horseback rider appeared over the crest of a hill and halted. She heard the horse neigh, and saw it rear up in excitement and joy. It galloped down the hill, rider bent low, and halted by a tree. It suddenly grew closer and Encoriel saw A masculine figure dismount from the horse, smoothening it's forelock in thanks. He then turned to meet another figure, slight and feminine. The two met in a loving embrace, clasping each other tight, he whispering words Encoriel could not catch into her hair, their arms entwined as they met in a passionate kiss, bodies close, in harmony, as one. Encoriel leaned forward, trying to see their faces, but the picture was fading, she was coming back into consciousness.

Her eyelids fluttered open. She was breathing raggedly, all too aware of the unnaturally fast beating of her heart. The cobwebs of the intoxicating dream started to lift. She felt her heart rate slow down and her breathing become more even and steady. She closed her eyes, thinking back to the dream. It was unlike any she had experienced before. She remembered every last detail so clearly and sharply, every emotion, every face.

She knew little of the events and politics surrounding the Siege of Gondor, which was what she was chiefly concerned with. When she heard news of a battle being fought, she knew that would involve casualties, a lot more than the healers already appointed could deal with. She was a trained healer, though inexperienced, and far yet from perfecting the art, yet she knew much more than others in the subtle art, so knew she would be of use. Of course, that was not her only reason for leaving The Palewood Realm, where she had abided all of her life so far, in fact, it was just an excuse.

The Palewood Realm is a very obscure Elven dwelling, among the oldest, but that is not to say among the greatest. The ways of the elves there greatly differed to the elves from the rest of Middle Earth. Those of Palewood had a beautiful, yet gothic city. It was fair, yet cold and distant and aloof..

Yet Encoriel was not like the other maidens of Palewood. She was stronger, her spirit free, not chained and bound by tradition and duty. Different from the rest of her people, she found herself  spending much of her time alone reading and walking.

The news of the problems in the outside world that even reached secluded Palewood at the same time her father announced her betrothal.

 Her intended was known to her, but not liked.  He was like the most part of the Palewood elves. Dark and secretive. She knew he often watched her. Saying nothing, his eyes filled with more than he could communicate through words. He seemed to her the sort who would rescue a fly from a spider's web, to slowly pull the wings off, before leaving it for dead. After her father had told her of her betrothal to him, she had ran to her room. She had long wanted to run, but had nowhere to go. She knew not much of the world beyond Palewood, and feared it, but death in the wilderness was better than slow suffering with her new hated husband-to-be, she thought as she packed a few meagre possessions into a sack. She had many belongings as meaningless as they were useless, and not needed.

 Of her own possessions she took only a comb for her hair, tucked into a pocked of her robe, and some twine to bind her hair. All of her clothes were thoroughly impractical. She took only a thick, mysterious hooded cloak. She then slipped silently into the night, barely any time after her father had told her of her betrothal. She paused briefly in the kitchens, where she took a water skin and a large amount of long-lasting food. She knew vaguely she wanted to travel to Gondor, though she knew not where it was, and that it could be dangerous, so she slipped back into the main house where she stealthily located a knife, being the only weapon she felt she could handle. She would have liked to find a map, but her father, she knew was still in his study. She would have to trust the fates. 

She swiftly fled into the night, a brief patch of shadow slipping by. She ran to one of the fields where she knew horses to be kept, and called them to her. Only one answered, a large dark-bay mare with a kind eye. Encoriel asked the Mares permission before leaping lightly onto her back. She had never ridden the mare before but trusted her implicitly. Together, they travelled swiftly from the fields, around the back of Palewood, farther than Encoriel had ever travelled before. A lump of fear built up in her throat as she urged the mare on. The journey to Gondor was terrifying, but full of experiences for Encoriel, as she learned to survive in nature on her own. 

She had learned from books how to build traps, which plants were poisonous, and which beasts to avoid. She travelled far, despite the hardships, in the rough direction she knew Gondor to be, and, as she went, found the side of her nature which had been all-but crushed. Her eyes filled with light, and a smile played on her lips. She was happy in the company of Brilnow, as she had named the Mare. They were kindred spirits, alike in nature, swift and gentle and suspicious they soon came to care about each other. The mare had much experience of Middle Earth, and helped to guide her mistress towards her destination. 

When Encoriel reached the healing camp, she was wary, but, finding mainly very friendly healers and a lot of work to do, she got on well. Another elf gave her a sword, to protect herself (No one knew about the knife, just in case), and she carried it though she knew not how to use it. She was more confident on her own, as ever,  not liking company beyond her horse so often went out to search for the injured alone. 

She dragged herself back from her musings by a great feeling of thirst. Noticing the water-skin by the bed, she drank from it, before walking steadily over to the font, carefully removing her garments, and slipping gently in, to rid herself of the clamminess due to her dream. She examined the wound treated the day before by the other elf. She could see the poison had left her. The wound was starting to heal. As she sank back into the calming liquid, she tried to remember the elf that had helped her more clearly. She thought he said his name was Legolas, of a place called Mirkwood that she had never heard of. He had told her she was prisoner of dwarfs, and they would do her no harm. Of his part in this, if he had told her she could not remember. He held a regal air, it seemed a part of him and he seemed to hold power over her she could not place. And his eyes.  She feared them most of all. She felt they could read her like a book. She shuddered, not liking the idea of a stranger seeing her soul.

She thought of her mare waiting for her, and hoped she was all right. Her thoughts returned to what to do about her present situation. All she knew was she must survive. She was good at that. Her head emerged from the water. She pushed her wet hair out of her face. _I will survive._

 When Legolas returned, he found her sitting with her back against the wall, staring at him, awaiting his arrival.

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End file.
